


The Queen's Lover

by rebeccavis



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, F/M, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-04-02
Updated: 2015-04-05
Packaged: 2017-12-07 05:42:54
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 11,864
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/744931
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rebeccavis/pseuds/rebeccavis
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Margaery was raised to rule, and to rule happiness often had to be sacrificed. She never expected or believed it was possible to have everything she wanted.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Duty & Desire

**Author's Note:**

> I had the idea for and started writing this fic a long time ago, but I kept delaying publishing it because I was originally planning for it to consist of only two chapters. Now I've decided that it will be three or four slightly shorter chapters instead, and I'm hoping it will be better for it. I absolutely adore writing for these two and am looking forward to continuing with this story, but for now here is the first chapter. This is dedicated to my dear friend Rach, without whom shipping Robb and Margaery wouldn't be anywhere near as fun.

The Red Keep of the city of King’s Landing had been so named because of the colour of the stone it had been built out of, one of the colours of its then ruling house of Targaryen. The king that reigned over the seven kingdoms was now another, and the halls of the castle were decorated with banners of golden stags on fields of green, but Margaery thought it was interesting that through the castle part of the Targaryen legacy would always remain. When she stood on the balcony of her chambers in the evening, gazing out to watch the sun set in the city, all of King’s Landing appeared to glow red as fire, red with vibrancy, red with passion. She often wondered how it was that such a place could seem so cold to her.

That night, Margaery had sat down at her dressing table and gone through the very same routine she went through every night. She had removed her crown and loosened her hair, letting it tumble past her shoulders. Her handmaidens had helped her remove her dress, and afterwards bathe her and dab her wrists and her neck with fragrant oil. Finally, she had slipped on her shift, purposefully made too big for her so that it hung loose on her body, disguising every curve. And now, as she did every night, the queen waited. She wore no smallclothes underneath, determined not to slow down in any way a husband who, if he made an appearance at all, could easily change his mind.

Margaery had come to realise there was nothing she could do but be patient. Her king knew as well as she did that he needed an heir and she was the only one who could give him one, so he would come in time. She had already tried many things and given him many suggestions but he had not been interested in any of them, and so all that was left to her was to be patient during the night and be the loving wife of King Renly during the day. Thankfully, it was not so difficult to pretend to adore Renly, especially not when most everyone else seemed to as well. Renly was the people’s saviour, who had removed cruel King Joffrey and brought peace and prosperity to the land, and she was the queen whose family had helped him do it. Everyone loved King Renly and she did too, in her own way. It was not the kind of love the songs spoke of, nor did it make her heartbeat quicken and her face flush in his presence, but it was there all the same. He was making someone happy even if it wasn’t her and she held no resentment for him, in truth - aside from every now and again when she remembered the one instance where he _had_ come to claim his marital rights, drunk out of his wits and smelling like her brother. He had turned her over onto her front that night and taken her maidenhead roughly, painfully, while tears ran down her face and she bit down on her lip so hard she drew blood. She had not made a sound as her husband the king had thrust into her again and again until his seed finally spilled, most of it ending up on her thigh. Renly had then gotten up without a word and walked out of the room, his wife still facing away from him. Since she had never expected to enjoy their encounters, the memory wouldn’t be quite so sour to her if it at least it had worked, but that had been several moons ago and her belly was still as flat as ever.

She had discovered lying in bed alone late at night that she did not need Renly or indeed anyone but herself to tend to her pleasures. Her hand slipped between her legs and with her fingers she quickly discovered where to touch to make her want to cry out in ecstasy while her whole body shuddered. She was able to give herself what Renly would never be able to give her, but at the same time she could not help but wonder. She wondered what it would be like to experience those sensations with someone else, and she wondered what it would be like to cause them in him. To begin with her lover had been a faceless shadow, but as of late he had taken on a far more definite form in her mind.

 “Lord Robb,” she greeted him when their paths crossed one morning on her way out of the Red Keep and into the city of King’s Landing. It was a gloomy, miserable day outside, but Margaery had endeavoured to never let such things deter her. She knew how important it was to make her presence felt in the city, no matter what the weather.  

“Your Grace,” he said in return, giving a small bow of his head. He was his father’s son, or so she was often told: always gracious, always respectful, always polite, often stern and even at times a little cold, but whenever he greeted her and lifted his head to meet her gaze again he’d give her a smile that filled her with warmth. She couldn’t remember when she had first started wondering if there was anyone else he smiled at in that way.

Robb was the man who had won the war for her king. The smallfolk still spoke of how Renly had valiantly defeated the Lannister troops despite his inexperience in war, but they tended to forget that the person who had actually been responsible was even younger and arguably even more inexperienced. The soldiers who had survived the War of the Five Kings, though, would never forget. Margaery had come to realise that much in the time she’d spent in her husband’s camp. Renly might be loved but Robb was respected, especially by the men who he had always fought side by side with, never shying away from the thick of the action. It was the Young Wolf who had made victory possible, and for his efforts Renly had made him Hand of the King. The Baratheon and Stark houses were united once more, Renly liked to say, ruling together as they always should have been. The reality, however, was far from being that simple. Renly and Robb might have been allies, but they were not friends as Robert Baratheon and Eddard Stark had once been, and she was positive King Renly’s recent actions had only put a further strain on the relationship between the King and his Hand. The stag and the wolf did not rule together: the stag ruled with pleasure, delighting in the never-ending ceremonies and banquets that came with being king, while the wolf ruled seriously and reluctantly, never seeming comfortable in the role he’d been given. Meanwhile, the rose was caught between them, her heart intimate with only one, her body permitted to be intimate with only the other.

The reality of the situation, in truth, was even more complex. The events that had occurred only the day before had the potential to change everything, yet Margaery was already almost certain everything would stay very much the same. She knew her wolf better than a lot of people imagined. He’d had a moment of weakness, it was true, but even then the initiative had been hers, not his. He was his father’s son, or so they said. Left to his own devices, his honour would win out in the end, as it always did. That was why she was presently lying in her bed awaiting the unlikely appearance of her husband, not up in the Tower of the Hand where her thoughts were. She was pulled out of her musings by the sound of the door clicking open and she raised her eyebrows in surprise, looking up eagerly. The man she saw standing there, however, was not the man she had expected to see.

“Robb,” she breathed. She made to get up, but Robb shook his head, bidding her silently to stay where she was.

She knew her wolf better than a lot of people imagined, and yet it seemed he was still capable of surprising her.


	2. Passion & Permission

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all so much for your kind words on this fic! I hadn't expected to get much of a reaction at all, but people have been so lovely. I just wish I had more time to write it, but I hope you'll be kind enough to bear with me even when I take a little while to update. Enjoy!

Margaery had never quite been able to pinpoint when or how it had happened. She reasoned there had to have been a time after meeting Robb Stark when she had felt absolutely nothing for him, but if there was then she couldn’t bring it to mind. Though she had not loved him straight away, he had stirred something in her from the moment they had met – perhaps because she had never before met a man quite like him. Her brothers and even Renly to an extent always seemed to view war as a game, and as their side had a strong advantage it was a game they were more than happy to play. It took her aback to meet a man so serious despite his age and who fought for the memory of the family he had lost.

Margaery might not have been able to recall precisely when she had begun wondering what Robb’s arms would feel like around her, or how his lips might feel against hers, but all of her memories of him were alive and strong. She remembered watching him from the entrance to her tent in Renly’s camp, noticing how comfortable he seemed among his men as he shook one’s hand, answered a question coming from another. She remembered the first time she’d made her way over to speak to him, and how after that he would often come talk to her of his own free will late at night. She remembered being ashamed of the hint of happiness she felt when they had received news of House Frey’s betrayal, because she knew it meant Robb was no longer obliged to marry one of Lord Walder’s daughters. She remembered all too well the young woman from Volantis who tended to men on the battlefield, the one she had seen Robb speaking to a few times. She had expected it to somehow change things between her and Robb back then, but he was just the same as he had always been with her. The war ended, the Volantine woman left to go wherever it was that they needed her, and Robb had stayed.

It had puzzled Margaery for a long time why Robb _had_ actually stayed. She knew he disliked the capital as much as he disliked the rest of the small council, and that not a day went by where he didn’t resent the people around him and the fact that they could play the game better than he could. Margaery had come across him more than once after a meeting in the small council chamber and found him closed off, frustrated over the fact that there was nobody he could trust. He seemed to trust her, though, and she disliked seeing him upset so much that she had learned very quickly how to soothe him and bring a smile to his face. She often asked him to tell her about his home, about his siblings and his mother whom he frequently wrote to. His eyes would shine when he spoke of the North, of the castle of Winterfell and the Wolfswood, and his words made her feel almost as if she was actually there.

“You seem to miss it so much, my lord,” Margaery had remarked to him once. They had been talking earlier in the corridors of the Red Keep, but Robb had invited her up to his private audience chamber in the Tower of Hand so they could continue their conversation. “Sometimes I think it sounds as if you’d be happier there, but I would be sad to see you go.”

“I think I would be decidedly more miserable there, Your Grace,” Robb had answered, giving her a small smile with a hint of sadness. Margaery had only felt confused then, and suddenly had become very aware of how close they were sitting to each other.

“Perhaps not if you took a lady wife back with you to keep you company,” Margaery had suggested, only have Robb immediately shake his head at her, “Come, there must be at least one lady here who has interested you. It’s not as if you don’t have plenty of choice.” That had made him blush a little, and Margaery had insisted she spoke only the truth. Robb was the heir to Winterfell and the Hand of the King besides being young and handsome, and she knew for a fact there were already a great many fathers eager make a match between him and one of their daughters.

“You think I’m handsome?” Robb had questioned, taking Margaery by surprise. She hadn’t expected to feel her face flush and to be overcome with nerves all of a sudden.

“It can’t be the first time you’ve heard that,” Margaery had remarked quietly.

 “It’s the first time I’ve heard it from you,” Robb had said, and that was all he seemed to be concerned about. His gaze on her was intense and Margaery found herself having to look away from him. “I miss Winterfell all the time, Your Grace,” Robb admitted gently, “But as painful as it is to stay, I believe it would be far more painful if I were to leave.”

“You talk of so much pain, my lord,” Margaery had said softly, reaching for Robb’s hands, “Why do you suffer so?”

“Don’t you know?” Robb had asked her in a voice that had made her heart break. “Gods, please, tell me I have been imagining all this,” he had begged her quietly, “Convince me that the thoughts going through my head for the past year have been pure folly. It would make everything so much easier.”

She had silenced him by taking his face in her hands and pressing a kiss to his lips. Margaery remembered being surprised that he did not pull away immediately as Renly often had, and even more surprised by the intensity with which he’d kissed her in return. She recalled all too well the feeling of his tongue sliding over hers, and how her body seemed to become sensitive to every touch, including that of his hand as it came to rest on her waist. It was the kind of kiss she’d never expected to experience.

When her husband the king had summoned both her and Robb to his own private audience chambers the next day, a part of her had been terrified that he’d found out. She could not bring herself to regret the kiss, but she hated herself for not being more careful. She had always told herself she would faithful to her husband no matter what the cost, well aware of the fate that had befallen the previous queen who was not, and when she looked back on it she thought it seemed truly ridiculous to put herself at risk for a single kiss. Her mind had already been furiously at work trying to come up with some kind of explanation, but the words that had come out of Renly’s mouth ended up leaving her speechless.

“You love each other,” King Renly had said, and it hadn’t been a question, “Don’t even try to deny it.” Margaery’s eyes had widened but she’d said nothing, looking down at the floor to avoid looking at Robb. Neither of them had ever admitted as much to each other, and she had never allowed herself to even contemplate having such feelings.

“Your Grace, I don’t know what you’ve heard…” Robb had started to say, but Renly interrupted him.

“I have eyes, Lord Robb. All of the Red Keep has seen you constantly in each other’s company, going out for rides together, having private meetings in each other’s chambers,” Renly pointed out, “And I have seen the way you look at her when you dance together at royal feasts.”

Robb had made to speak again, but the king had raised a hand to silence him. “I did not call you here to condemn you, Lord Robb,” he affirmed, “Quite the contrary… I called you here to give you permission.”

Renly’s words were what echoed in Margaery’s head now as Robb stood before her in her chambers, and they were what made her heart beat faster than usual in her chest. She was used to more often than not feeling very sure of herself, but in the past few days everything seemed to have been turned on its head. She suddenly felt ridiculous sitting on the bed in her shift that was too big for her, wondering if the man standing in her doorway was really there for the purpose she hoped she was. Margaery watched in silence as he made his way over to her, moving to sit gently on the bed.

“Why are you here, Lord Robb?” Margaery asked him, her voice barely above a whisper.

“I…I needed to speak to you. Is it true what King Renly said yesterday?” Robb asked, “That he has never been able to love you? That his affections lie with another?”

“Yes,” Margaery answered softly. She would never reveal her king’s and her brother’s secrets, but she did not see the harm in confirming what Renly had already told Robb. “In fact, _he_ lies with another,” she added after a pause, “He has not visited my bed for a long time.”

Robb’s brow furrowed in what seemed to Margaery like genuine confusion. “I’m sorry to just barge in on you like this,” he said, “I wasn’t sure if I should come, I just…I have been thinking about the king’s words since yesterday. I couldn’t sleep last night.”

“I’m the one who should be sorry,” Margaery said quickly, “We can…we can forget it ever happened. I can talk to Renly and convince him never to speak of it again. Whatever you wish, my lord.”

“I wish…I wish you would call me Robb,” came the answer, “And I wish to know only what it is that you want.”

His words lingered in the air for a moment and silence fell over the room as Margaery had to talk herself in her head into saying what she said next. She was raised to rule, and she knew that to rule happiness often had to be sacrificed. She never expected or believed it was possible to have everything she wanted. “I want you, Robb,” she breathed. 

This time, her wolf came to her. Strong arms wrapped around her body and she closed her eyes as their lips met in a kiss that was different to their previous one, far more fervent and wanting. Margaery took Robb’s lower lip between her teeth as they barely broke apart only to kiss each other again, her hips pressing against his. Robb just about managed to pull away long enough to relieve her of ugly shift, his hand sliding down her leg before he lifted it up her body and tossed it to one side. When she was sat before him on the bed naked as her nameday, his reaction made any doubts she could have possibly had vanish from her mind. He looked over her with wide eyes and a boyish eagerness that she’d never witnessed before. It made a flush creep up her neck, particularly when she noticed the bulge in his breeches.

“Touch me, Robb,” a voice Margaery recognised as her own said, though she didn’t remember at any point actively making the decision to say what she’d been thinking. He didn’t hesitate to obey, his fingers running over her skin to her breasts, watching as her nipples hardened underneath his thumbs. She could practically see the hunger in his eyes just before he lowered his head and took her right nipple in his mouth, making her moan and her back arch as he slowly began to suck and tease her. She could feel herself growing wet between her legs when his tongue ran along her other breast, lavishing it equally.

“I’m yours,” she whispered to him, silently praying for him not to stop. She was doing nothing wrong, she told herself whenever doubt crept into her mind for a moment. The king had given his permission. “Only yours and nobody else’s. I ache for you,” she confessed, “Claim what is yours.”

Her words seemed to have their exact desired effect as Robb moaned slightly against her skin and pulled away only to let Margaery help rid him on his own clothing. It fell into a pile alongside the bed and Margaery’s hands could finally roam over the muscles of his arms and his chest, sliding down to his stomach as she wondered if desire was coiled there just as it was in hers. She kissed his lips once more before she lay back on the bed, her hair fanning out on the blankets below her.

He leant forwards and she spread her legs for him, welcoming him between them. He was hard against her thigh – hard for _her_ , she realised, full of desire for _her_. When he entered her slowly, she let out an involuntary moan, followed by a breathy “Oh, gods, _Robb_.” She had made the decision barely a few moments ago to encourage him as much as possible, not wanting him to change his mind, but she found she had hardly any control over the words that left her mouth. “You feel so good, my wolf,” she breathed.

“You feel incredible, Margaery,” Robb murmured back, taking her by surprise. She hadn’t expected him to speak, hadn’t expected him to admit enjoying an act that in anyone’s eyes would be treason. The deed was done and there was no turning back, although in truth their betrayal had begun long ago. Her heart had been Robb’s long before she gave her flesh to him, and she was certain she would give him almost anything if he asked. If anyone else ever found out they would be traitors to the crown in their eyes, but Margaery found she felt no guilt. Robb kissed her, his lips lingering against hers as he began to move in her, and she could think of only him and the sensations he caused in her. 

She had never asked him outright if he had ever been with a woman before, but from everything she knew about him she highly suspected he hadn’t. Then again, she supposed, she had never been with a man either aside from her one experience with Renly. For all Robb lacked in experience, he made up for it in willingness to learn. He obeyed when she told him to move up her body slightly, was willing to comply when she took his hand and guided it between the two of them to where she’d given herself pleasure many times. His touch was gentle and he made her moan louder, her head thrown back against her bed. Her hips canted upwards with every thrust and before long she began to feel ripples of pleasure run through her body, growing ever more intense until she found herself screaming his name. Barely a few moments later, she heard him give a groan and she felt him empty into her, filling her with his seed. His blue eyes met hers as they both caught their breath and exchanged satisfied, content smiles, as if for a moment she was no longer the queen and he was no longer the Hand of the King.

“I love you, Robb,” Margaery whispered into the darkness, uncertain if he was still awake as they lay curled up together in bed, long after their candles had been blown out. They had briefly discussed him leaving, but had agreed that it would only look more suspicious if someone caught him sneaking out of the queen’s chambers in the dead of night. Besides, it felt so right to have him there next to her, feeling the rise and fall of his chest with each breath he took.

“I love you, Margaery,” she heard him whisper back, and she knew then that she was most definitely already in over her head.


	3. Fervor & Fear

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First and foremost, thank you all for the kudos and especially the comments you've been leaving on this fic. I hope you haven't given up on it because I am committed to seeing it through until the end, even though I may be a bit slow on updating at times. All of your kinds words are appreciated and I hope you enjoy this new chapter!

The corners of Margaery’s lips were turned up into a smile as her fingers tangled in soft auburn curls, giving them gentle tugs in tandem with Robb’s movements. At first her lover had needed some encouragement from her, a little uncertain about what he was doing, but now he seemed perfectly content to go it alone. Margaery was truthfully rather glad, since she wasn’t sure she would have been able to form a coherent sentence right now even if she tried. She hadn’t quite been able to imagine just how good it would feel to have his head between her legs and his warm tongue lapping at her centre as all her sensations gave way to nothing but pleasure.

Margaery had to admit she been a little nervous about surprising Robb late that evening in the Tower of the Hand. She had plenty of past experience waiting for someone to no avail and it had very nearly made her change her mind at the last minute, but Robb’s reaction when he had found her lying naked in his bed had made her immeasurably glad she had stayed. His mildly stunned face had been almost comical as she had slowly risen to her knees and reached forwards to unfasten and slip off the robe he had been wearing, murmuring to him that he wouldn’t need it. Her hands had run along his skin, her fingers kneading the muscles beneath his chest and his stomach then moving lower still. When her hand had curled around his cock for a moment she had been afraid of gripping him too hard, but her fears had been assuaged when he had groaned in pleasure. She knew how good it felt when she slid her hand between her own legs and she had been pleased to find it had the desired effect on her lover as well. They had then exchanged deep, passionate kisses as she’d slid one hand along his length progressively faster, the other gripping his backside and giving it a squeeze when she felt him tremble. His seed had spilled soon after that and he had looked sincerely embarrassed until she had brought her hand to her lips and licked it off her fingertips. The kisses they shared afterwards were almost overwhelming in their intensity, and when he had told her that he wanted to return the favour she had only been able to oblige him. What she couldn’t say she had expected was for him to use his mouth on her the way he did.

“Oh gods, Robb. Don’t stop, my love,” Margaery whimpered, unashamed of begging him. His tongue had found just the right spot and she was so close to her release that the last thing she wanted in the world was for him to pull away. “Don’t stop, _please_. Don’t… _oh_ …” Her words dissolved into a moan she had to stifle by biting on her own bottom lip, and moments later her body was overtaken by a shudder as a wave of pleasure pulsed through her.

“Do you suppose there are many men who do that for their ladies?” Margaery wondered aloud, taking a few deep breaths as her body relaxed. Robb had seen her through until the end of her high, then pulled away slightly to kiss along her inner thighs and her stomach on his way back up her body. A delighted laugh escaped her as his lips lingered on her breasts; it seemed to be a spot he particularly favoured.

“I couldn’t tell you,” Robb said, giving a small chuckle of his own, “I’ve never thought to ask.”

“Nor I,” Margaery admitted with a giggle, “But I liked it very much.”

“Good, because I was intending on doing it again,” Robb affirmed, subsequently breaking into a grin. He had reached her eye level by then and she was slightly surprised when he leant in and pressed a kiss to her lips. She was even more surprised when she found she rather liked that he had a distinct taste on his tongue.

“I would like that. You must let me try it myself, too,” Margaery insisted, laughing again when Robb’s eyes widened involuntarily. “You needn’t be so surprised. I like your cock. I liked it when you were inside me,” she whispered, giving him a teasing smile, “But I am glad we have found other things we can do that do not risk you getting me with child. Thank the gods nothing came of our first time together.”

Robb fell conspicuously silent then and Margaery hesitated slightly, wondering if she had said something she shouldn’t have. She thought about asking him outright, but before she had time to even formulate a question he was pressing a tender kiss to her lips and speaking to her again. “I’m so glad you came to see me today,” he admitted, barely pulling away from her, “I miss our time together…our time together in daylight hours, I mean.”

“I do as well, my love. Sometimes I feel we see less of each other now than we used to,” Margaery agreed as she let a hand thread through Robb’s hair, “I wish we didn’t have to be so careful. When I’m here with you it’s as if nothing else matters in this world, but when I leave you…”

“I know. In King’s Landing even the walls in the corridors have ears,” Robb said gently, “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t complain. What matters to me is that you are here.”

A warm smile spread across Margaery’s face. “I would have come sooner were it not for my grandmother’s arrival. I love her dearly but she’s a very hard woman to evade,” she commented, “I also saw you looking particularly irritated today after your small council meeting and I thought you could use some cheering.”

“You’ve certainly accomplished that,” Robb remarked, giving a smile of his own, “Thank you, sweetheart. I didn’t think feeling this happy again was possible until you.”

“There’s no need to thank me,” Margaery told him. She pressed a kiss to Robb’s lips and briefly thought that she should probably leave, but she knew where Renly would be and she also knew she would only end up lying in bed alone. She infinitely preferred being curled up with her wolf, who was wonderfully warm and had many habits she loved such as sliding his arm around her to bring her even closer to him. “Do you wish to share your troubles with me?” she asked him conversationally, “I may be able to help.”

“I think I am the problem, truthfully. I do not know how to deal with any of them,” Robb admitted, “I don’t know whom I can trust.”

“I’m afraid the answer is you can’t trust anyone. Not here, anyway,” Margaery informed him with a small sigh, “Most of them are Renly’s men, not yours, and the ones who aren’t loyal to him serve only their own interests.”

“How do you know such things?” Robb wondered, smiling again, “You’re far cleverer than I am.”

“I merely watch and observe,” Margaery informed him, though a smile tugged at the corners of her own lips, “And listen.”

“What do you think I ought to do, then?” Robb enquired, “Based on your observations.”

“Well, if you ask me, my love, what you need is to have at least some of those men replaced by men you can trust,” Margaery explained, “Or men who would be worse off if they betrayed you. It will be no easy feat, but you are the Hand of the King and I am his queen. I believe between us we hold some sway over Renly.”

“Is that so?” Robb said, raising an eyebrow. Margaery had to work to hide the fact that she was rather stunned that someone was curious as to what she was proposing, as she was far more used to being dismissed for voicing an opinion on anything that didn’t involve her assigned queenly duties. “Go ahead,” Robb encouraged her, “I’m listening.”

* * *

“His grace is very drunk tonight.”

Margaery turned towards her grandmother at the sound of her voice, pulling herself out of her thoughts. Throughout the feast she had avoided looking at Robb by focusing rather intently on every plate of food that had been placed before her, but now that he had retired to the Tower of the Hand she was finding it if possible even more difficult to think of anything but him. The banquet that evening was to celebrate the newly appointed Master of Ships and Master of Coin, the former of which was Wendel Manderly, a trusted companion of Robb’s from the North, and the latter of which was Margaery’s very own brother Willas. Her efforts and Robb’s had paid off quickly and she knew her lover was as pleased at the news as she was, which only made her all the more eager to retire as well and join him in his chambers. Unfortunately, for the sake of appearances, she had to wait until a drunken Renly made his own exit before she would be able to leave.

“None more so than usual, I believe, grandmother,” Margaery commented to Olenna, letting out a small laugh, “He always enjoys feasts like these a great deal.”

“I think he might be enjoying this feast a little more than usual,” Olenna affirmed, and Margaery merely shrugged her shoulders. Her actions seemed to displease her grandmother, whose mouth twisted slightly.

“Well, good sers and beautiful ladies, this evening has been a delight,” Renly spoke up, addressing the few men and women who still remained in the Great Hall, “However, I believe the time has come for me to bid you all a good night and return to my chambers. Come with me, my Lord Commander of the Kingswife and my guard.”

Margaery laughed along with everybody else at Renly’s confusion, and moved to stand while Loras in his white cloak hurried over to catch an unsteady Renly before he fell on his face. Despite the small commotion all she could think about was Robb awaiting her, his hands ready to undress her and his lips ready to kiss her, and it clouded her thoughts to such an extent that she almost didn’t hear her grandmother whisper to her.

“Make sure you go up to the king’s chambers with him,” Olenna advised quietly, her tone calm, “I expect he’ll be wanting your company tonight, and if not…drunken men are confused easily, especially in the dark.”

Margaery froze stiff. She knew exactly what her grandmother was implying and she wouldn’t even dispute that it was a good idea. If Renly was drunk out of his wits and Loras was in the same room, it wouldn’t be all that difficult to convince him he was kissing one Tyrell when he was in fact kissing another. She didn’t know if that meant she would necessarily be able to get him to put a child in her, but if such an opportunity had presented itself not so very long ago she would have taken it without any hesitation.

“I will heed your advice, grandmother,” Margaery affirmed, to which Olenna gave her a small pat on the hand.

The lie had slipped out easier than Margaery had expected it to. She left her husband and brother at the king’s chambers where Renly was already touching his Lord Commander of the Kingsguard in places that many would consider inappropriate, and instead of going to her own room she hurried to the Tower of the Hand. She would not spend the night with a husband who did not love her or even lust for her, hoping he would mistake her for her brother. She chose to spend it instead with a man who loved to mutter her name over and over when he was close to his peak. She chose to have Robb slip his hand between her legs, to have him find that little nub she had often used to give herself pleasure and rub it until she was gasping for breath. She chose to have him slide two fingers into her with his other hand and fuck her with them slowly, only making her moan louder than she’d intended to. She chose to let go in his arms, kissing him hungrily and forgetting everything, forgetting Renly, forgetting her grandmother, even forgetting her title. She was just Margaery, and she was just as much his as he was hers.

She reasoned she probably should have known that her grandmother would be waiting for her when she arrived at her chambers the next morning. It occurred to her as well that it probably didn’t help matters that she was rather flushed, her wolf having been unable to let her go in the morning without attacking her again much to her delight.

“I did not think at my age it was possible to be stunned but you have somehow managed it, Margaery. Is this why you ensured Lord Baelish was removed from the Small Council? Was he getting in the way of you doing whatever you please?” Olenna snapped at her, “I thought I had taught you better than this.”

“I ensured Lord Baelish was removed because he was a terrible Master of Coin. Willas will do a great service for these kingdoms and you know it,” Margaery retorted, “You did teach me, grandmother. You taught me how to survive, and I will always be grateful for that. But you never taught me how to _live_. I am finally _living_.”

“You are being a foolish girl,” Olenna informed her, “And you are going to wind up getting yourself killed. You need to end whatever this is.”

“No.”

Olenna blinked at her granddaughter, then took a step back from her as she shook her head. Margaery couldn’t deny that it hurt to go against the wishes of a woman had been a guiding force for as long as she could remember, but she had never before been more certain of a single word and the implications it held. “If this takes a turn for the worse I won’t be able to protect you, Margaery,” Olenna said quietly, “I hope you know what you’re doing.”

For the first time in her life, Margaery Tyrell felt as though she truly did.


	4. Courage & Consummation

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all so much for your patience with me and for the love you've been giving this fic. I really enjoy writing it and only wish I had more time to do so! There is still one more chapter left to go, so for now enjoy this new one and I would really appreciate it if you left a comment as well. Happy reading!

In the moons that had gone by since Margaery’s affair with Robb had begun, she had found she had grown very fond of the godswood. Her wolf liked to tell her many stories of his time spent playing near the weirwood tree in Winterfell, and she liked to imagine him there as a little boy whenever she was by the great oak that stood tall in the godswood of the Red Keep. Sometimes Robb himself would join her on her outings, although they sadly couldn’t dare to even hold hands, and other times Margaery would go alone and simply sit and enjoy the beauty of her surroundings. It made her think of home, though at the insistence of her parents she had spent far more time as a child in the sept in Highgarden than in the castle’s own beautiful godswood. She wondered at times what the Seven would think of her now, though she felt in her heart that they had abandoned her long ago when she had abandoned them. When she prayed now it was always in the godswood and it was always to nameless old gods of stone and earth and tree.

Robb had told Margaery once that it was said that the gods spoke through the wind, and when she fell silent for long enough she was always certain she could hear voices. What she hadn’t yet been able to do, though, was make out precisely what they were saying. She had thought it might be because her mind was far too crowded with thoughts of her own, and it was even more so than usual on this particular afternoon. She had spent the entire night wrapped in Robb’s arms, as she had become more and more prone to doing so over time, and the words he’d spoken in her ear not long before falling asleep still hadn’t left her. “I wish I was your husband,” he’d said in a whisper, and Margaery still remembered the tingle that had gone down her spine in both excitement and worry. She was praying to the gods at present for guidance, as all she saw in her future was uncertainty.

“Who goes there?” Margaery called out when all a sudden her silent prayers were interrupted by the sound of soft footsteps. She had been kneeling by the heart tree with her head bowed, but when she lifted it she couldn’t see anyone nearby. What she did see was a slight rustling in one of the bushes, and her whole body tensed up. The figure that soon revealed itself, however, turned out not to be a person at all, but rather an extraordinarily large direwolf with smoky grey fur and yellow eyes.

“Grey Wind,” Margaery breathed, feeling her body relax. Despite the fact that she was before such a large, imposing creature, she found that she felt no fear. She had come across Robb’s companion on a few occasions, both with Robb and without, and he had never shown any hostility towards her. When she extended a hand for him this time, the direwolf inched forwards until he was close enough to nuzzle into her palm. “You are so much like your master,” she whispered, “Gentle despite your fierce reputation.” Her other hand came up to Grey Wind’s neck, and she ran her fingers delicately over his fur. “I hope my children someday have someone to protect them as you do Robb,” she admitted.

The wind seemed to have picked up in the godswood, causing the branches of the heart tree to sway and their leaves to rustle. Grey Wind sat on his rump, standing much taller than Margaery, and lowered his head so his eyes met hers. Looking into them was so familiar that it took Margaery aback. “Robb?” she whispered, as impossible as it sounded. She wrapped her arms around Grey Wind the way she never could with Robb in public, and as she closed her eyes the murmur of the wind became the voices of the gods and the rustling of the leaves became their calming whispers. This time, however, their words began to make sense, forming images in her mind that she had never let herself even contemplate. Almost as soon as she wondered if they could ever be a reality, she was filled with a sense of security and warmth that she had never experienced before. She felt as though she could breathe easier and by the time her eyes opened again any doubts she had were gone from her mind.

“I am going to live, Grey Wind,” she whispered, hoping that Robb somehow could hear her as well, “We are going to live.”

* * *

Robb looked mildly puzzled as he made his way into the godswood in the dead of night, but Margaery was pleased to him dutifully wearing a cloak bearing the Stark direwolf just as Margaery had asked him to in the note she had sent him earlier in the day. He arrived to see her stood beneath the heart tree dressed in a cloak of her own which was coloured green and gold instead of white and grey, and bore the rose of House Tyrell. A smile grew on his face as it always seemed to when he saw her, and this time there was a hint of curiosity in it as well.

“I’m so glad you’re here, my love,” Margaery whispered, giving him a smile of her own as he stepped closer, “I was foolishly worried you wouldn’t come.”

“I would never miss an opportunity to spend time with you,” Robb told her, “I must admit I am a little surprised by your choice of location, though.”

“Hopefully all will become very clear soon,” Margaery said in return, “Robb, I…I love you. You know already but it is worth saying again. I wish to be with no one but you. I wish to be your wife and go home with you to Winterfell.”

“Margaery…” Robb breathed, moving even closer so he could slip his arms around her. He looked at her with eyes wide in awe, and Margaery’s smile only broadened. “I want that more than anything,” he admitted softly, “But you and I both know that’s not possible. You are already married.”

“I married in a sept before the Father and the Mother. I have never been married before the old gods, before _your_ gods whom I wish to be our family’s gods,” Margaery breathed, “They spoke to me today, Robb. You…you were with me, weren’t you? Here in the godswood.”

Robb’s expression grew stern and he hesitated to answer, looking worried, but eventually he gave the smallest of nods. “I am sorry, sweetheart,” he said, “I didn’t know you’d be there and I don’t wish to frighten you. My bond with Grey Wind goes beyond my own understanding.”

“I am not frightened of you. I only find you even more extraordinary,” Margaery affirmed, reaching up a hand to rest it on Robb’s cheek, “Robb, the gods told me that I will bear you a child. If we lie together on this night, the gods will gift us with a beautiful Stark with red hair who will bring us nothing but joy.”

Robb’s eyebrows raised, his eyes never leaving Margaery’s. “Is that…is that what you wish?” he asked her, “You would like to have a child of ours?”

“Yes,” Margaery answered immediately, “I can think of nothing I want more besides being with you. Is it what you wish, my love?”

“I…I have always wanted to be a father,” Robb admitted, a smile slowly growing on his face again, “I cannot think of anything more perfect than fathering your child, but only if it is as your husband.”

“We have a godswood with a heart tree,” Margaery pointed out, finding small tears of joy welling in her eyes, “And we have the cloaks of our houses.”

“It would seem we do,” Robb commented with a small chuckle, “My sweet Margaery…will you marry me here before the old gods – _our_ gods?”

“I will marry you at this very moment,” Margaery answered, her voice filled with affection, “But you must help me for I have no experience in such weddings.”

“Of course,” Robb said, giving a nod. His expression was positively giddy and Margaery could only grin as well, thinking to herself that every wedding should be this way. He beckoned her close so that he could whisper to her what she needed to say, and then moved to stand beneath the heart tree while his bride took a few steps back. She would normally be escorted to him, he explained, but Margaery affirmed she was more than happy to escort herself.

“Who comes? Who comes before the gods?” Robb called out, his gaze fixated on his bride.

“It is I, Margaery of House Tyrell. A woman grown and flowered, trueborn and noble and very much in love, I come to beg the blessings of the gods. Who comes to claim me?”

“Me, Robb of House Stark, Lord of Winterfell and Warden of the North,” Robb answered, reaching out his hands as Margaery approached, “I claim you, and ask you humbly if you will take me.”

“I take you, Robb,” Margaery said, her breath catching in her throat.

Still holding hands, the two of them knelt before the heart tree, bowing their heads in submission to the gods. Margaery did not know what Robb was praying for, but for her part she was silently thanking them for giving him to her. She did not know it was possible to feel as happy as she did as she rose to her feet together with Robb and saw tears glistening in his eyes just as she knew they were in hers. He let go of her hands to remove her cloak, taking it off delicately and placing it over his arm before he slipped off his own. The cloak of House Stark was soon draped over her shoulders, and her eyes fell on her new husband. He leant forwards so that their lips could meet in a kiss that she was certain she would never forget for the rest of her days.

* * *

Margaery’s wedding to Robb couldn’t have been further away from her wedding to Renly, and the same could be said for her wedding night. Her true husband somehow managed to carry her back to the Tower of the Hand despite the fact that he barely stopped kissing her, and there they shut the door and began undressing each other with delighted smiles. As eager as they both were to consummate their marriage and conceive a child, Margaery was pleased to find Robb still took his time, kissing her all over her body as her layers of clothing were peeled away and making her moan as he took one of her breasts in his mouth and teased her nipple with his tongue. She had started to feel herself getting wet between her legs almost as soon as they had laid down on his bed, and by the time Robb had moved on to her other breast she was already encouraging him to slide his cock into her soon. She felt him hard against her leg but then all of a sudden he was gone, and she opened her eyes to see he had sat up.

“Come here,” Robb beckoned slightly shyly. Margaery smiled, however, and was all too happy to climb into his lap.

“Do you want me closer, dear husband?” Margaery whispered, giving a small, delighted laugh as the term of address slipped so easily off her tongue.

“As close as possible,” Robb affirmed, his face pink and his eyes bright as a wide grin spread across his face.

Margaery bit on her bottom lip as she lowered herself down onto his shaft, relishing the feeling of Robb filling her. It was only the second time he’d been inside her in this way, and Margaery thought it just as good if not even better than the last. “Thank the gods you are mine,” she half gasped, “I’m certain nobody could feel this good, my love.”

Robb responded by leaning in and kissing his new wife deeply, smiling all the while. They had stilled for a few seconds to just feel each other but it wasn’t long before they started up a rhythm, with Margaery rising until Robb almost slipped out of her then sinking so he was buried deep. The base of his cock rubbed against her folds in just the right spot, sending small shudders through her. Moans soon began to escape both of their lips as they got closer and closer to letting their pleasure take over. “Gods, Margaery…my wife. I can hardly believe you are my wife,” Robb admitted, barely pulling away from her, “I am the most fortunate man.”

“Then I am the most fortunate woman,” Margaery breathed in return. She felt him turn his head to press a kiss to her neck and she suddenly let out a moan as he nipped at her skin. “Do that again,” she requested of him, having found that the small amount of pain only intensified her pleasure. He was quick to oblige, his teeth worrying a spot close to her collarbone.

When Margaery let go she found it was made even better by the fact that Robb did so at almost the exact same time. Her walls clenched around him and his seed spilled into her and she smiled, knowing her womb would quicken and soon she would be able to feel life growing inside her. As her body then relaxed she remained where she was, her arms wrapped around Robb’s neck and her chest pressed against his. “Husband?” she whispered, pressing another kiss to his lips, this one tender and gentle.

“Yes, my sweet wife?” Robb murmured back, his own hands resting on her lower back as his breathing slowed down.

“The gods told me they would bless us if we loved each other tonight,” Margaery explained with a smile, “But now that we are married I do not think it will hurt to increase our chances. I just wish you to know I will certainly not object to loving you several times a day if you wish.”

“I will certainly not object to that either,” Robb admitted, his face slightly flushed as he pressed several kisses to Margaery’s cheek. She gave a giggle and he fell silent for a few moments, apparently lost in thought. “Do you…do you think Renly will accept your terms?” he spoke up, and his wife’s expression then became far more serious.

“He will have no choice but to. If he does not I will tell the entire population of King’s Landing that the child I am carrying is not his, and that he has never consummated his marriage with his own wife,” Margaery affirmed, “He will not risk the humiliation.”

“Promise me you’ll let me come with you when you speak to him. I just want to make sure no harm comes to you,” Robb said softly, “Renly seems like a good man but I worry nonetheless. I worry about you as well. You will be giving up so much. Your entire family is going to think that you are dead.”

“I am not going to die by Renly Baratheon’s hand. I am going to die an old woman in Winterfell, where you and I will have lived for many happy years and had several children together,” Margaery whispered back, her hand threading through Robb’s hair, “It will be difficult to leave my family, I cannot deny that. But neither can I live as I am now, Robb. I can only live with you. I know that for certain.”

_You must die, Margaery_ , the gods had whispered to her when she had been huddled beneath the heart tree with Grey Wind, _You must die so you can live._


	5. Reaction & Rebirth

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all so very much for the comments and appreciation you have given this fic. I started it two years ago, I recently realised, and I'm happy and also sad to be bringing it to an end. I very much hope you enjoy this final chapter, and I'm sure you'll see another fic from me very soon because I can never resist the pull of this wonderful ship. Happy reading!

Margaery had to hold back the angry tears that threatened to fill her eyes as she stood tall in the king’s private audience chamber, refusing to meet Renly Baratheon’s gaze and shaking her head. It was almost hard to believe that earlier in the day she had wept tears of pure joy in the Tower of the Hand, when she had told Robb Stark that she was carrying their child and his reaction had been to break into the brightest of smiles and draw her into an embrace to kiss her. The two of them had subsequently spent the afternoon talking about names, and Robb had even told Margaery which set of chambers he thought would be suitable for a nursery in Winterfell. By the time they had realised they needed to tell Renly, they had both been so giddy that neither of them had quite been prepared for his reaction. Margaery thought that she barely recognised her husband, in fact, stern and unforgiving as he was stood before them. _Renly is not your husband_ , she reminded herself, her hand resting on her belly. _Your true husband is standing by your side._

“How can you say such things?” Robb addressed his king with a furrowed brow, “After all Margaery has done for you.”

“After all she has done for _me_? And what of all that I have done for the both of you?” Renly snapped, “I permitted you to be with this man, Margaery. I gave you consent to seek what I could not give you and you repay me by depriving me of an heir?”

“I tried to give you an heir, your grace,” Margaery pointed out, “Clearly I am fertile. If you are childless it is no fault of mine.”

“Yes, it is. It is your duty as my wife to bear children for me,” Renly stated plainly, “And so you shall. When this child is born, they will be raised as my own, as a prince or princess. It is a far better life than to be the Hand of the King’s bastard.”

“Our child is no bastard, and I would never give them up to you,” Robb told him, “We were married with the gods as our witness.”

“So you’ve told me,” Renly said coldly, “And so again I ask you: do the old gods not frown upon a lady taking another husband when she is already in a marriage?”

“What marriage?” Margaery questioned, looking incredulous, “I _did_ my duty as your wife, Renly. I pleaded with you and I waited for you and I was even silent when you came to my bed drunk and treated me the way no woman deserves to be treated. But gods help me I will not live the rest of my life waiting for you to get drunk enough or desperate enough to try to put a child in me, nor will I let this child grow up thinking you are their father. They already have a father, and he is a thousand times the man you are. I would wager he would be a thousand times the king as well if he were sat on your—”

“Watch your tone when you speak to your king!” Renly interrupted, his voice loud enough that it made Robb instinctively take a step forwards. Margaery caught a glimpse of Robb’s hand resting on the hilt of his sword, and she placed her own hand on his arm to reassure him.

“I am disgusted that the both of you would betray me as you have, and that you’d have the audacity to demand that I take part in your further deception,” Renly stated, “Consider it my gift to you that I am letting you live. But when this child is born he or she will be named a Baratheon or I will execute you both for treason.”

“You would kill a newborn babe’s mother and father?” Margaery breathed, unable to blink back her tears then, “I do not know how it is that my brother bears as much love as he does for you. You are nothing short of a monster.”

All at once Margaery was turning on her heel and hurrying out of the king’s chambers, and all at once she realised from Robb’s expression that she had inadvertently revealed her king and her brother’s most closely guarded secret. She felt almost as though she should be afraid, and yet of all the things that were troubling her at the moment it seemed like that issue was the one she least had to worry about. She trusted Robb, and she knew he would never put Loras’s life at risk. The other matters on mind, however, seemed far more difficult to solve.

“This was his plan all along,” Margaery gasped amidst sobs once she and Robb had returned to the safety of the Tower of the Hand. Her husband – her _true_ husband – had his arms wrapped around her and she felt safe in his embrace, but she feared for the child that was growing inside her. “There I was thinking he allowed us to be together out of the kindness of his heart…all he wanted as an heir,” she added, “I won’t let him have our baby, Robb. I won’t.”

“Neither will I,” Robb affirmed, his hand running soothingly over Margaery’s back, “Our child is to be raised by the both of us in Winterfell, I promise you. Just as we had planned.”

“But what of Renly?” Margaery questioned, “You heard him. He won’t…”

“I have an idea,” Robb explained, to which Margaery gently pulled away to look up at him. The small, reassuring smile he gave filled her with warmth and she blinked curiously as she waited for him to elaborate. “Gods be good, it may be just the key to getting your plans to come to fruition…and perhaps it might even bring your brother some happiness as well.”

* * *

There was a full moon shining brightly above her head on the night Margaery waited for Robb’s return, tired from having given birth only the day before but alert and eager to see her husband again. Her surroundings were far more modest than her quarters in the Red Keep, though she was aware the manse she was staying in would be nothing short of luxurious to many who lived in King’s Landing. For her part she was very pleased to be there, and she found that she did not miss the chambers in Maegor’s Holdfast that she had recently said goodbye to forever. Her brother, who was stood by her side, was looking at her rather strangely due to the simple clothes she was wearing, but she hoped even he could see how happy she was. The only person that could make her smile even brighter was soon at the door, and he was carrying a baby bundled up his arms.

“Hello, sweetheart. Good evening, Lord Commander,” Robb said, keeping his voice down, “This little one has been so well-behaved. He didn’t cry at all on the way here.”

“Either he is well behaved or you are simply already proving yourself a skilled father, my love,” Margaery commented with a smile, “He looks very content in your arms.”

Robb blushed, a proud smile of his own appearing on his face. “I should give him to his real father, though,” he commented, stepping forwards and gently passing the baby over to Loras.

Margaery had wondered before if Loras had ever even contemplated the idea of being a parent, but when she saw his face light up as he held the baby boy in his arms she knew she and Robb had made the right decision. The kingdom needed an heir, Loras and Renly needed a child, and this baby needed a loving home.    

“Did you have any trouble at the orphanage?” Loras asked, gently cradling the boy who gurgled softly.

“None. There are so many children here…I think they were pleased somebody wanted to take one of them into their home,” Robb explained, “Apparently they found him abandoned in the streets a few days ago. They have no idea what happened to his mother and father.”

“He’s beautiful,” Margaery commented, “He will make a fine prince. Have you and Renly decided on a name yet?”

“Steffon,” Loras answered, “After…”

“Renly’s father,” Margaery finished for him, giving a small smile which Loras returned.

“Sister…” Loras said softly, “There are no words to thank you for everything you have done.”

“Do not thank me. It was Robb’s idea,” Margaery pointed out, “But if you wish to show your gratitude then show it by keeping your promise. Mother and Father can never know I am alive, and neither can Willas or Garlan or Grandmother anybody else.”

“As far as they will be concerned, you died in childbirth,” Loras declared with a nod, “And I hold your son in my arms. I am just sad they will never get to meet their…other grandchild.”

Margaery gave a small nod as well, tears pricking her eyes. Robb immediately made his way over to comfort her, and she let her head rest against his warm chest. “Tell them I love…loved them all very much,” she requested of her brother, “Reassure them that I am happy where I am now, for it is true and will be true. I wish there was another way.”

“So do I. I am glad I at least got to meet sweet Karine,” Loras commented, and not a moment later the soft sound of crying could be heard coming from the bedchamber, “Speaking of whom…”

“I think she may need changing,” Margaery told Robb, “She only just fed.”

“Can I change her?” Robb asked, and Margaery gave a small laugh at his slightly shy tone before nodding eagerly. One of the advantages of being hidden in a manse in King’s Landing was that she and Robb had been able to tend to their daughter themselves in these first few days of her life. Margaery knew that had she been in the Red Keep Karine would have been looked after by wetnurses and many other nurses besides, and she found she enjoyed being able to breastfeed her and change her and care for her herself.

“I think she’d like that,” Margaery affirmed, “She’s so very partial to you already. She always goes quiet when you’re holding her.”

“Probably because she knows I have no milk for her,” Robb commented playfully. He soon disappeared through the door behind Margaery, and came back holding his fussing infant daughter. The small girl was rather red-faced from crying, which only seemed to make it even more evident that the small tuft of hair on her head was the same auburn as her father’s.

“Shhh, sweet girl,” Robb whispered soothingly, pressing a kiss to Karine’s forehead before laying her down on the table, “Let’s get you cleaned up.”

“I should take this one back to the castle,” Loras commented of the boy he was holding, “He’ll need feeding before long. When are you leaving, sister?”

“Soon,” Margaery answered him, “We want Karine to grow a bit stronger, but we also don’t want to wait too long. She is a Stark, besides. Robb made the journey to Winterfell when he was but an infant and Karine will follow in his footsteps.”

“And what of you?” Loras questioned, “I am concerned for your safety as well.”

“You need not be,” Margaery affirmed, “I will have Robb with me…and I am a Stark as well.”

* * *

The walls of the Great Keep of Winterfell were made of granite in a shade of grey that many would have deemed dull, but Margaery thought the castle itself was the exact opposite. When she had come to the North she had brought very little by way of luggage and so not long after arriving she had made many seamstresses happy by visiting them and asking them to make several dresses. She had many made in grey and white, the colours of her husband’s house and of hers, and some in green as well to honour her family. She also had a collection of fur pelts made from the animals Robb often caught on the hunt in the Wolfswood. Folk called her a most elegant Lady of Winterfell, and it pleased her beyond measure that Robb’s people had been quick to accept her and her story that she was the daughter of a southron lord whom Robb had married in King’s Landing. She had of course taken a few measures to ensure they did so, including taking Karine on outings to introduce her to the smallfolk, and making sure to spend her coin in the nearby winter town as often as possible. Even though Catelyn had been somewhat sceptical of her at first, she had soon taken to her when she saw how she managed the household and gave Robb council whenever he needed it and took care of her infant. In truth, Margaery was almost certain Catelyn would have forgiven her anything if it meant she could spend time with her first grandchild. Margaery had in fact left Karine in Catelyn’s care that very evening, as she had a small surprise in store for Robb.

Margaery thought the hot springs beneath Winterfell were a blessing as the warmth inside the castle meant that she and Robb could often spend time with very few clothes on at all. The one shift she had sewn for her was rarely used, as there were few things she enjoyed more than feeling Robb’s skin against hers when they slept. On that particular morning she had woken to the feeling of his scratchy beard on her thighs before she’d guided him between her legs and leant back to let him pleasure her with his lips and tongue. The gesture had made her want to do something for him in return, and she had soon hit upon the idea of waiting for him that night dressed in nothing but one of his cloaks. His reaction when the door opened and he caught sight of her told her that her efforts definitely hadn’t been in vain.

“Seven hells,” Robb commented, kissing her deeply on the mouth after staring at her for a good few minutes with wide eyes. “I married a goddess, not a maiden,” he declared playfully.

“Hush. What would the gods say of such words, Robb Stark?” Margaery teased, giggling against his lips, “I thought we could continue our efforts tonight, although I suspect I may be carrying our second child already.”

“It never hurts to keep trying until we know for certain,” Robb agreed, already starting to undress himself with his wife’s help.

Margaery wondered sometimes if the gods had always planned for her life to end up as it had, or if she and Robb had made it so. All she knew for certain was that she did not regret anything that had occurred from the first night she had spent with Robb to the long journey to Winterfell to now, where her days were happier than they had ever been. There were days when she missed her family, it was true, and on such days Robb would go with her to the godswood where they would pray together for the health and happiness of the Tyrells. The sadness she felt on occasion, however, was nothing compared to her life at King’s Landing. In Highgarden they had called her a rose, and now she thought they might have been right to. Like a rose she thought she had proved she indeed had thorns, and like a rose she also knew she needed her share of water and sunlight to bloom. Ever since she had met and then married Robb, though, it felt as though he had awoken another living being inside her that she didn’t even know had been there.

“She-wolf,” Robb murmured to her after they’d all but collapsed into each other’s arms with shallow breathing and satisfied smiles. His comment was prompted by her nipping at his ear, and it made her laugh.

Margaery had held many titles, some commonly known and others in her head, from Queen of the Seven Kingdoms to adulteress, and she knew Robb had also been everything from Hand of the King to lover to the Lord of Winterfell once more. The title her husband had just given her, however, was the one Margaery decided she liked most of all.

“Happy to be,” Margaery declared, “If you will be my wolf.”

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so much for reading and I hope you enjoyed it! Feedback is always very much appreciated :)


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